


Condiments and Ovechkin (But No Condoms)

by bohnem990



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Coming Out, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Holding Hands, M/M, being outted
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-29
Updated: 2015-03-29
Packaged: 2018-03-20 07:34:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,144
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3641976
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bohnem990/pseuds/bohnem990
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You’d think Ovi would have more tact than that because he was Russian and being gay in Russia was a federal offense, but no, apparently not. </p><p>*</p><p>Mike really should buy another steak and thank Ovi for being a nosy son of a bitch.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Condiments and Ovechkin (But No Condoms)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [jonnyhustle](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jonnyhustle/gifts).



> Prompted by [Natalie](http://toestoewstazer.tumblr.com) who asked for "Latts and Willy. Hand holding and domestic fluff + A1 Steak sauce." Because she was amused by my judgement of those who use A1.
> 
> For those of you who don't know what A1 Steak Sauce is, please feel lucky. For those of you who, for some reason, want to know, here's the [wikipedia](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/A1_Steak_Sauce) on it. I literally judge people who use A1. It is disgusting and un-American and disturbing. If you need to use A1, you aren't eating steak correctly. Then again, I don't eat red meat. I also don't mean to offend anyone who uses steak sauce. 
> 
> ALSO! [Here](http://i.imgur.com/4OJblQO.gif) is the gif that prompted the prompt for this fic. Natalie found it and was amused after she'd heard me rant about A1 and demanded a thing happen. So it did. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy and feel free to join me on [tumblr](http://chicago-runsonduncan.tumblr.com)!!

Every time Mike opened the fridge he wanted to throw up a little. Not because it smelled bad, but because sitting next to the three bottles of ketchup Willy, for some reason, had needed to buy was a bottle of A1 Steak Sauce. It was disgusting and Mike was judging Willy so hard for it. 

It started yesterday on the plane ride home from the circus trip. Willy hated planes, this was common knowledge. It was partly how they forged their bond, Mike being the only teammate willing to take one for the team and sit next to the worst flyer in the history of flyers. Willy squirmed, he grumbled, he sprawled as wide as he could and gripped the armrests, he blurted out scenarios upon which the plane could be taken down. He was the literal worst person to sit next to on a plane and for some reason, Mike had decided it was his duty to sit next to him. The rest of the guys thought he was a saint. Mike was totally a saint.

Lately, Willy hadn’t been so bad. He’d calmed down and didn’t quote plane crash statistics at them, but his leg still jiggled annoyingly. Alex wanted to know who the hell had replaced the real Willy with this imposter Willy. 

Climbing from his own seat, one where no one sat next to him because he was captain and captains needed space, he ambled down the plane towards where Latts and Willy were (sitting at the very front with a single row between them and the rest of the team because Willy was seriously that obnoxious.)

He could hear them before he could seem them, the constant patter of Willy’s foot tapping against the floor. Latts was curled up in his seat, Kindle out and both hands preoccupied, only one with the Kindle. The other was curled around Willy’s, thumb brushing against the back of his hand in a comforting motion. 

Willy noticed him first. “Oh hey, Ovi.”

Mike’s thumb stopped moving, glancing up slowly at him. “You’re up here willingly?” His voice was scratchy from disuse, plane having been in the air for nearly two hours already, the way back to DC from LA. 

“Wanted to see what make Willy less annoying. Look like is you,” he motioned to their joined hands and while Mike tried to ignore it, Willy’s face colored bright red. Like what the fuck. 

“You two -” Alex opted to make an obscene hand gesture, making a circle with one hand and and in an out motion with the pointer finger of the other, rather than just finish the sentence. 

Willy spluttered and Alex grinned, having gotten the answer he was looking for. 

*

And that’s why Mike was cooking steaks for most of the team. Because Willy couldn’t keep his stupid mouth shut and Ovi was an asshole. Promptly, he’d turned around and announced how cute they were and how Mike and Willy were going to feed them the next night and they were going to support their cute gay romance. You’d think Ovi would have more tact than that because he was Russian and being gay in Russia was a federal offense, but no, apparently not. 

Backy was the one who started it by opening the fridge. Honestly, the only things in it were ketchup, Bud Light, and broccoli because Mike had sent Willy to the grocery store and that was one of the worst decisions he’d ever made. Besides sitting next to Willy on plane rides.

“The fuck you got so much ketchup for?” he hollered, pulling a Bud Light from the fridge and twisting the top off. “And A1? That’s disgusting, I’m judging you.” 

There was a chorus of agreeing sounds from the living room where a bunch of guys had congregated to play Mario Kart and Mike knew that Willy’s face was flaming. He lacked the ability to keep his emotions off his face and Mike kind of hated it. It was awfully inconvenient. 

“What is A1?” Ovi asked, because of course they didn’t have such gross condiments in Russia.

“It’s steak sauce,” Mike sighed, sticking his head out of the kitchen. “And it’s mine.” 

Of course, Mike was going to take one for the team. Again. Except where the team this time was him and Willy. 

They all chirped him about his horrible taste in food and how they were surprised because it wasn’t a secret that Willy was the one who didn’t know how to go to the grocery store or feed himself. Mike was seriously going to kill Willy later. 

When dinner was served, steak and broccoli because one, Willy couldn’t shop, and two, Ovi was there and would make sure they actually stuck to their diet, Mike was stuck taking the bottle of A1 from the fridge and pouring it over his steak. Honestly he was kind of mourning his choice in boyfriend right then because he had been looking forward to that steak, and now it was ruined. 

Somehow they managed to fit seven of them around the kitchen island, hands reaching in all directions for salt and butter and veggies and forks and napkins. It was a free for all and once they had all settled, the only thing that could make Mike’s awful steak any better, hiding the grimace from his face with every bite, was the fact that Willy had to try twice as hard to choke down his steak as well, A1 sauce free. 

*

When everyone was gone and the plates had been cleaned up, Mike found Willy on the couch, channel surfing for a movie or something. 

“Thanks for saving me tonight,” Willy mumbled, picking at a lost thread on his jeans.

“I think you should show me a little love,” Mike grinned, settling into the seat next to Willy on the couch. “I ate that nasty steak for dinner, and I was kind of looking forward to that mean. Ovi bought the good kind too, and I had to ruin it. You’re lucky I love you.” 

The words just slipped out. Mike froze where he was. 

Willy looked up at him with wide eyes, eyes that were so young and Mike was struck how young they really were, that it was crazy he was saying he loved someone at only twenty three. Willy was only twenty and this was crazy. 

“I love you too,” Willy grinned, voice soft and shy. 

Mike had to kiss him, so he did, leaning in and pressing their lips together gently at first as he cupped Willy’s cheek, thumb brushing across his cheekbone. 

“All over some steak sauce, huh?” Willy laughed as they broke apart, a look Mike wanted to catalog and look at always. And he could. 

Mike really should buy another steak and thank Ovi for being a nosy son of a bitch.


End file.
